Of Cat Ears and Fangs
by Alternate Ego
Summary: In which John receives an interesting change to his physique... now continued because you asked for it.
1. Slight Alteration

A/N: Ahem. Your attention please. Stargate Atlantis has been nominated for the People's Choice Awards! (pcavote . com) So. You know what to do! You don't want Dr. Who to win, do you?!?

And now, on with the story...

--Of Cat Ears and Fangs--

"Physically he's fine. I've given him a full checkup; blood tests, x-rays, everything. Except for a slight alteration in his DNA, he is perfectly healthy."

'_Oh sure, I'm just fine 'n' dandy.'_

"Will he be able to go on off-world missions?"

'_Hello, he is right here!' _

"I don't see why not, although he may have to keep the new… developments… to his physique hidden, just in case they startle the natives."

'_Ya think?' _

"Okay, then, what's the problem?"

"I have CAT EARS, how's that for a problem?!"

Carson blinked, turning to look at John, who sat on a bed at the opposite side of the room. "You don't have to yell, Colonel. You could have just come over here and spoken like a normal person."

John glowered at both Elizabeth and Carson, his fuzzy, black, four-inch-long ears twitching furiously. "This. Is. Not. Funny."

Elizabeth didn't even bother to hide her smirk. "We never said it was, John."

"I don't see what you're all worked up about, myself," Carson added. "Your new ears are extremely sensitive to sound; I suspect that's why you were able to eavesdrop on us from the other side of the room. "

John shook his head quickly, as if trying to rid himself of the furry triangles that were nestled in his hair. They flapped around a bit, but stayed firmly attached to his head. "I can't be seen like this. I _won't _be seen like this," he growled.

"Oh, but you look ever-so-adorable." Rodney entered the room, smirking. His snide voice grated on John's hearing, causing him to instinctively pull back his ears and bare his teeth. Rodney stopped dead in his tracks, staring in surprise. "What, cat canines too?"

John glowered at him. "Yes, Rodney, I have fangs." They were driving him nuts; he kept accidentally biting his lips and tongue, coating his mouth with a thin layer of blood.

Elizabeth still looked amused. "Well, as interesting as this is, he can't stay like that forever. Have you made any progress with the Ancient device that caused the change?"

"Yes, about that…" Rodney started, frowning slightly.

John groaned. "Oh god. He has no idea how to fix this."

Rodney glared and huffed. "Just because I don't know how to _yet _doesn't mean I won't soon. Now shut up and listen."

The Colonel frowned, but stayed quiet as Rodney continued, "We found out from the database that the device was originally intended to completely convert humans into an animal of their choice. The setting was on _ivakil, _which is a mammal found on the mainland that has similarities to an Earth puma. When the Colonel here activated the device, it tried to turn him into one of those animals," Rodney explained rapidly, a slight smirk on his face. "Now, it didn't complete the transformation because it was almost out of power. The energy it spent changing Sheppard's, ah, ears and teeth has completely drained it."

"So recharge it," John snapped.

"It's a ten-thousand-year-old, extremely complex Ancient device, not a cell phone. You can't just plug it in an outlet and wait for the battery to charge," Rodney said, giving Sheppard a look that made it clear he thought the pilot was mentally challenged. "Besides, the device was made to turn humans into certain mammals. There is no indication that it is able to reverse the process."

"If you don't find a way I'll get that thing to change _your _DNA. And it'll be set to one of those whale fish, too," John growled.

Elizabeth sighed loudly, preventing Rodney from replying. Rubbing at her temples, she asked, "Can or can't you fix what's happened to John?"

The scientist hesitated. "Well – maybe. Possibly. If we find a way to calibrate a Naquida generator to feed energy to the device, we might be able to turn it on and fix it so that it changes mammals back to people instead of the other way around."

"Good. Work on it," Elizabeth said. Turning to John, she added, "In the meantime, it might be best if you stayed on Atlantis for the next week, just to make sure there aren't any side effects from the machine."

Rodney looked smug. "Who knows – maybe it changed your brain into a cat's, too. But then again – we'd never be able to tell the difference." He quickly ducked out of the infirmary to avoid getting slammed by the pillow John sent in his direction.

Elizabeth and Carson exchanged looks at John's slumped, dejected form. "Why don't you talk to him," the doctor murmured. "He seems a wee bit upset."

"I can hear what you're saying, you know," John called.

Elizabeth winced and nodded to Carson, who left after giving John a sympathetic look that would have softened him had it not also been wholly amused. As Elizabeth approached him, John laid his ears flat against his head, looking woefully miserable. She struggled to suppress the smile that threatened to bud across her face; John's left ear had cocked to listen to her footsteps, and while it seemed like the motion was unconscious, that only made it all the more adorable.

"Coming to practice your bedside manner?" John grumped.

Biting down on her lip to stop the smile, Elizabeth said, "John, it's not like you're in mortal danger here."

He glared at her. "Oh no, I just look like I'm a month late for Halloween." One of his ears flicked irritably, making her want to either giggle in a way that was completely undignified for an expedition leader, or reach out and pet the flaps of fur, which was also totally inappropriate.

Clamping down on both urges, she said, "Look. I know you're probably unhappy with the change. But by now you should realize that Rodney can fix this. Just give him some time."

"I know, I know, the genius will figure it out eventually," John muttered. "But how long is eventually? I have a social life, you know. I can't be seen like this! Ronon and Teyla will never let me live it down. The military commander, with fuzzy cat ears? My men will bust their ribs laughing. Not to mention what the chicks will thi - " he stopped, blinked, and then looked sheepish. "Did I, uh, say that aloud?"

When Elizabeth merely raised a disapproving eyebrow, the ears drooped. Combined with his kicked-puppy-dog look, it had enough cute power to melt the stoniest heart in an instant. She didn't stand a chance.

Giving in, she said, "Ronon and Teyla will probably tease you a little, but I'm sure you'll survive. And while your men may find the new additions somewhat, ah, _humorous_, I doubt they'll start rebelling or even laugh to your face. As for the 'chicks'…" She rolled her eyes. "Somehow I don't think you need to worry about that. Take it from me; in general, women love cats, or any other small, furry animals for that matter. Combined with an attractive guy and, well…" she shrugged, hoping he'd get her drift.

He cocked his head at her, the ears perking up. "Really? Do you like cats?"

"I'm more of a dog person myself, but," she finally gave in to the urge that'd been pestering her and reached out to briefly touch his ear, "I have to say, they are pretty cute."

John looked considerably more cheerful at her words. "Thanks, Liz. I gotta say, your bedside manner has really improved." He smiled at her winningly, although his charm was somewhat tempered by the two fangs that poked out from under his upper lip.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him threateningly. "Don't call me Liz."

"Or what?"

She smiled pleasantly. "Or I'll lie and tell everyone you have a cat tail, too."

"You wouldn't. They'd never believe you."

"Really? Between the two of us, the reliable leader of the expedition and the flyboy who has his image at stake, who do you think everyone will believe?"

"That's cruel, Elizabeth. Very cruel," he said, ears drooping again.

She laughed and briefly touched his knee. "Go do some work, Colonel. You still owe me two mission reports."

"Fine," he said, pretending to sulk out the door. "But since I'm stuck with these things, you know I'm going to use them," he said in a matter that fully promised trouble for all.

Elizabeth just smiled wryly. "I'd expect nothing less."

--FIN (or is it?)--

A/N 2: Now go vote, if you haven't already. Maybe leave a review, too. I seriously doubt I will continue this, as it's simply a one-shot that popped into my head, but if it has sparked your muse in any way, you are welcome to take the idea and use it. Just tell me first so I can read it. :)

EDIT: Better yet, go vote now, give me a good idea of something I could use to continue this little idea, and I'll try and write something else. Deal? Good.


	2. Tuna

A/N: Just some more silly fluffy friendship. Not much Sheppard/Weir interaction… that'll come later. With the plot. (Yes, I actually have a plot. Try not to die from amazement.)

Oh yes! And the wonderful Comanche-Antigo has made fanart for the fic! Go check out Cat!John. I command it.

http:// rogueapollo923.deviantart. com/art/Crack-Art- Cat-John-70512813

A/N II: I really did struggle over this chapter. There were so many difficult decisions I had to make. Namely: is John Sheppard a soft white bread type of guy, or a whole wheat kind of guy? Yes, this dilemma gave me much thought… perhaps ciabatta would be more suitable? Finally I just decided to go with "bread", plain and simple. What type it is, you can decide for yourself. ;)

-----

Chapter the Second

It was the perfect turkey sandwich. Crisp lettuce, ripe tomato, and sweet red peppers crammed between two thick slices of freshly baked bread slathered with mayonnaise and mustard. And of course, the turkey, sliced into perfection and taunting him with the sheer mouthwatering beauty of it all.

Like he said, it was perfect. Any other day, it also would have already been consumed by now, reduced to a desolate pile of crumbs. But no. There it was, sitting innocently on his plate, untouched. John could practically see the dust specks beginning to gather. His ears, which seemed set on reminding him of their new cattish form, twitched as if to commiserate the waste of this culinary masterpiece.

"Are you going to eat that, or just sit there and stare at it?" Rodney took the seat across from him, placing his tray on the table – as usual, it was loaded to the point of being a hazard to anyone who happened to walk by McKay while he was carrying it – if he were to trip, well, let's just say the victim would end up looking like one big pile of food.

"I'm eating it," John replied defensively, half-heartedly poking at it with a spork. It wasn't that he was full; heck, he was starving. As if in agreement, his stomach rumbled audibly, making Rodney raise an eyebrow.

"I thought you liked turkey sandwiches," he said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes (or at least, they could have passed for ordinary Earth potatoes, except they were bright orange – a color that, strangely, did not particularly stimulate his appetite). "And by the way? That is just weird. They _twitched_," he complained, eyeing Sheppard's cat ears as if they had just committed some gross transgression against him.

Sheppard chose to ignore the last comment, inane as it was, instead replying, "I do like turkey sandwiches." He frowned at the sandwich, now slightly stale. "Or at least, I did."

Rodney rolled his eyes, waving his spork around as he spoke. "Whatever, Colonel Can't-make-up-my-mind. One must wonder if your finicky choices in food reflect certain James Bond-like tendencies with women."

John's ears flicked to the left; he could hear a scratching, clicking noise, soft and out-of-place. It was distracting; he had to resist the urge to turn his head and try to find out what was making the sound. "You're just jealous that I get captured by the hot aliens and you don't. Unless, of course, you still think Wraith are hot…" he trailed off, waiting for the reaction, and was rewarded when Rodney spluttered and nearly choked on his food.

Rodney scowled at him. "Don't be absurd. And come on – you thought she was hot too! At least until we found out she was Wraith. Bet you tried to charm her into letting you out of the cell, or something." He looked at John's ears, and crowed, "Ha! I'm right! You did try and Kirk her!"

"Did not," John denied automatically. But even as he said it, he felt a telltale tic of movement from above – dang it, what were those damn things doing?

McKay's smirk was satisfied and gloating. "Your ears move every time you lie. It's disturbing, but hey, could come in handy."

"Yeah, so next time when I'm trying to tell Elizabeth that my mission report is almost finished, she'll suspend me for lying," John said, grimacing. "I just hope you're working hard on fixing that device."

"Or what?"

"Or next time I'm on the Daedalus, I'll beam you to a deserted planet without a Stargate." He paused dramatically. "And I'll leave Kavanaugh there with you."

"No, you wouldn't -" Rodney frowned, watching his ears, which remained motionless. "Hey! You would! I can't believe this – all the times I've saved your sorry ass, and -"

At this point, John's attention was yanked away by the return of the noise. Scritch, scratch… it drove him crazy. It was small, so soft that he could barely hear it over the noise of the mess hall. He frowned, focusing harder… whoa, that was cool. He could filter out the other sounds he didn't want to hear – such as people talking. Namely, the person sitting across from him.

" – are you even listening to me? Hello? Sheppard?" Rodney snapped his fingers in front of John's face.

He blinked, laying his ears back slightly at the close proximity of the snaps. "Rodney. I'm trying to eat in peace, here."

Rodney snorted. "Eat? Oh, so that's what you're doing?"

"Yes." John picked up the sandwich, intending to take a bite – but hesitated. Ah, screw it all. He needed something else to eat.

Discarding the sandwich (which Rodney pounced on like a starving man) Sheppard headed back to the lineup to find something else to eat, trying to ignore the people who ogled his ears as he walked by them. Did they have to stare so much? So, he had cat ears. This was the Pegasus Galaxy – stranger things had happened.

Placing his tray on the counter, Sheppard glanced around at his options. Salad… spaghetti… tuna… Tuna?

Tuna. Why on Atlantis did the tuna look so appealing? He didn't even _like_ fish.

Biting his lip in consideration, John immediately winced; he'd forgotten about the fangs. Now there were drops of blood running from his wounded lower lip. Hastily wiping the blood away with his sleeve, John finally relented and placed some of the tuna on his plate.

Rodney was never going to let him live this down…

Ronon and Teyla had joined Rodney at their table. John flattened his ears unconsciously; they had yet to find out about his ears, and he was not looking forward to the teasing. Perhaps it was time for a strategic retreat.

Then again… judging from the way they were both turning to look in his direction, curiously scanning the crowd for him – Rodney had probably already told them.

John took his tray and headed back towards the table. Might as well get it over with.

He'd barely had the chance to sit down, though, when Lt. Cadman approached. She cleared her throat almost timidly, fidgeting slightly with her shirtsleeve, before beginning, "Ah, sir? I was just, um, wondering… I mean… if maybe I could…?"

Sheppard sighed, resigned. "Go ahead, Lt."

Cadman let out a surprisingly girly squee, and reached out to touch the furry black ears, running her fingertips along them from base to tip. Well, at least she was gentle. The _last _woman had nearly yanked them off.

Having satisfied her curiosity, Cadman gave him a grin, chirping, "Thanks, sir," before running back to her girlfriends to report.

Turning back to his tuna, Sheppard valiantly tried to ignore the gapes of his teammates. When they showed no signs of regaining coherence anytime soon, he decided it was time to break the silence.

"Rodney, if your jaw falls any further, you'll be able to swallow the table."

Rodney spluttered. "You just – this – isn't there some kind of military regulation against letting another person _caress your _ears _in a public place?!_"

Ronon chuckled, reaching out a hand towards John. The Colonel ducked instinctively, expecting him to tug them; but he only touched them, very briefly, before pulling away.

"Oh GOD," Rodney said, staring at them both in horror. "That was just _wrong_. Wonderful, the image of Ronon fondling John's _ears _will be forever burned into my memory!"

Teyla laughed aloud at that, while Ronon just smirked, unrepentant. "They're fuzzy. And soft. Sure you don't want to touch them?"

"No, thank you very much!" Rodney huffed. Then he hesitated, leaned forward towards Ronon, and asked, "Well – just how soft are they?"

"Uh, hey! Don't I get any say in whether people touch my ears or not?" John said, slightly exasperated.

Ronon grinned predatorily. "Nope."

"Yeah, your consent is not required. Now stay still."

John leaned away from Rodney, glad the table was between them. "Jeez, people, cut it out!" He looked at Teyla, who was barely managing to suppress her laughter. "Let me guess, you're next."

She smiled, eyebrows raised in amusement. "No, it is alright, Colonel. I think I will refrain."

"Aw, he's disappointed," Rodney said, his tone mocking. "He wanted the pretty woman to touch his ears. Look, they're drooping!"

"They are not!" John defended, sitting up straight as if scalded.

"Yes, they are! Oh god, you're so hopeless," Rodney snorted. Ronon and Teyla were laughing, although Teyla smiled gently at John to let him know she did not mean it in a malicious way. (Ronon just laughed.)

Pretending to sulk, John muttered, "Just for the record, I hate all of you."

Ronon slapped him on the back. "We hate you too, buddy."

"No more fondling, though," Rodney said with an exaggerated shudder. "That was just disturbing."

Shaking his head, John glanced at his plate (tuna untouched until now) and took a tentative bite. And lo and behold – what he had previously considered to be nasty, gross stuff had been miraculously transformed into the tastiest thing he'd ever sampled.

Maybe the chefs had done something special to it? Something to make it taste better than… well, all the tuna he'd ever tried in his life?

Deciding to test out the idea, he asked Teyla, "How do you like the tuna?"

She sent him a quizzical glance. "It is fine. Although personally I think it might be overcooked."

Right. Forget that theory.

Maybe he should go see Carson.

- -

"I dunno know what to say, lad. You're fine." Carson said, looking over his blood test results again. When Sheppard began to protest, he held up a hand. "Yes, I know, you suddenly like tuna. What's wrong with that? Maybe it was just an acquired taste for you, so to speak."

"Tuna, Doc," John repeated. "Cats like tuna. I get cat ears. And I like tuna. It's not just a coincidence. That – _machine_ – must have changed more of me than just my ears."

Carson sighed and crossed his arms. "John, you're perfectly healthy. And you show no signs of change since I last evaluated you with the – new additions." He gestured to the ears. "It could be physiological, though."

"What, so since I got cat ears, I just think I like tuna?" John shook his head in disbelief. "I don't think so. There was definite chemistry between me and that tuna."

Rodney, who was waiting in the hallway, called, "You're telling me. He practically ate three plates of it! Most food I've ever seen the bird-man have."

The ears flicked irritably. "I am _not _a bird man."

"The way you eat, skinny legs, you could be."

"Alright, that's enough! Both of you are fine, now get out of my infirmary!"

- -

After fleeing from Carson's wrath, John and Rodney headed to the labs, where Rodney claimed he had "very important work to do". John came along; he wanted to make sure that his being restored to normal was the first thing on Rodney's 'important work' list.

Predictably enough – it wasn't.

"I can't believe I'm less important to you than the _plumbing system_," John grumbled as he watched Rodney type away at his laptop.

The scientist spared a moment to roll his eyes. "Oh, please. Stop acting like a hurt fifteen-year-old girl. If this were a life-and-death situation, then maybe you'd come before the plumbing and maybe even before the Zed PM regeneration."

John frowned, picking up the list (which was basically a scrap of paper on which Rodney had scrawled a bunch of things he had to do) and looking it over. "I'd still be behind the nanite research thing, though… and the exploration of the rest of Atlantis… and asking Katie out? Whoa, so you two are officially an "item" now, huh?"

Rodney snatched away the list, stuttering, "What? No, I just – it's just a little thing we have going – dinner together occasionally. That's all."

"Right," John drawled, smiling. "Whatever you say, Rodney." He was about to tease him further when he heard the noise again – _scritch, scratch, skitter. _John froze, turning his whole body to where the noise was coming from; ears cocked forward, he fixed his eyes on a spot on the floor. That was where it was coming from…

But then the noise faded away, and he felt his ears flatten in frustration and disappointment. He'd been so close…!

Rodney was staring at him. "What?" John said, suddenly aware of how he must've looked staring intently at a spot on the floor.

Rodney shook his head slowly. "You look just like my old cat whenever he heard an interesting noise. Wait – let me just try something…" He went to the other side of the lab, muttering as he rummaged through some drawers. When he found what he was looking for, he let out a triumphant "A-ha!" and returned.

It was a ball of string.

"Here – fetch!" Rodney tossed the ball of string to Sheppard. It bounced at his feet and rolled away.

John stared at the string. Then he stared at Rodney. "Sorry to disappoint you, Rodney – but I'm not THAT far gone."

… …

…somewhere far overhead…

Oh, but you will be, Sheppard. You will. –author cackles-

-TBC-


	3. Scaring the Kiddos

A/N: All of your wonderful reviews made me want to update right away! But seeing as I didn't have a chapter ready, that was kind of difficult. So here you go.

And, I must give credit and thanks to Musik-luvr, who gave a few very helpful suggestions for my story. (What they were, exactly, I will not say yet.) Thanks!

---

Chapter 3 - Scaring the Kiddos

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John was bored.

Very, very bored. Elizabeth had insisted that he be grounded from off-world missions until the cat thing was fixed. It'd been four days since then.

He'd sparred with Ronon and Teyla, several times. He'd volunteered to help in the kitchens. He'd inventoried the weapons stock and re-inventoried the weapons stock. He'd loitered around Rodney's lab until the scientist had snapped at him to either leave him alone, or to stay and risk getting the rest of his body turned into a cat, then getting caged, and then being sent to Madison as a birthday present.

He'd suffered through more people asking to touch/see his ears, and had a scabbing lower lip and tender tongue from his fangs pricking them all the time. He'd been careful to avoid all the scientists of the zoology department, who wanted to examine him like he was some kind of mutant (something John did _not_ appreciate). He'd jogged around Atlantis until he was dizzy, and accidentally knocked down Rodney twice in the process (okay, maybe not totally accidentally, but what was the man doing talking to Katie in the hallways when he could be working on the device?)

Hell, he'd even gone so far as to finish all his paperwork. That was a bad sign. If he was _that_ desperate, then he was really bored.

If he didn't do something, and quick, he'd end up doing something dangerously stupid. Like the time he'd been grounded after the retrovirus incident, and had decided to try and skateboard on the railing of the West Pier.

Elizabeth had been Not. Happy. The kind of Not Happy that made him want to hide in a corner and cower from her wrath.

Even the _memory _of how angry she had been made his ears flatten meekly. Bad boy. No more pulling life-threatening skateboard stunts on the West Pier for him.

Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time…

"John?"

Sheppard, who'd been poking unenthusiastically at his breakfast (pancakes with syrup – why did he have this strange craving for catnip?) looked up and half-smiled at Teyla. "Yeah, what's up?"

She smiled back and took a seat besides him. "I was wondering – you have seemed fairly unoccupied these last few days, and I need someone to fly me to the mainland. I would like to visit my people."

Sheppard perked up immediately. "Sure, no problem! When do we leave?"

"After you finish eating, if possible."

"Done," John said promptly, picking up his barely touched plate and throwing it away. Teyla looked amused, and John suspected that she hadn't really planned on visiting the mainland today; she was just doing it for his sake.

Which was perfectly fine by him.

- -

The trip to the mainland was fairly quiet; John was happily enjoying the sensation of flying the jumper, while Teyla seemed content to relax in the co-pilot's seat. When they arrived, he parked the jumper within eye-view of the Athosian settlement, saying cheerfully, "This is your captain John Sheppard, pleased to announce that we've arrived. Thank you for using the Puddle Jumper airlines, we hope you had a safe and comfortable trip. Be sure to throw away your excess trash in the specified containers."

Teyla merely gave him a tolerant, indulgent glance, used to his sometimes-odd behavior. He gestured for her to lead the way, and followed her into the settlement.

Halling was there with a few others to greet them, smiling and doing the head-touching thing. "Teyla! What a wonderful surprise, we did not expect you for another three days," Halling said, confirming John's suspicions.

Teyla sent John a small smile, replying, "Yes, I thought it might be wise to come earlier. How have you been doing?"

As they talked, a shout went up from the settlement; John's ears twitched; it sounded like the kids had just found out about their arrival. The flicking movement drew attention to the little change of his facial features; but it seemed Athosians were more polite (either that, or just used to the bizarreness of the Pegasus Galaxy) than Earthlings, for they made no comment.

As expected, a group of kids lead by Jinto came running up, excited to see Teyla and Sheppard again. It drew a smile to his face –

- until the kids took one look at him, froze in their tracks, and with several squeaks of startled fear, ran away.

"Hey!" John called in dismay. "Come back, it's okay…" But they were gone, and he turned to Teyla, his ears flattening in woe. "I don't look _that _horrible, do I?"

She coughed, probably trying to hide a laugh, and pointed to his mouth. "John, when you smiled, the, ah, fangs showed themselves."

"Oh." Find wall, bang head. "Well now what?"

"Go talk to them," Teyla advised. "They will overcome their surprise soon enough."

So John wandered around for a while, calling, "Jinto? Dunya? Kira? C'mon, guys, it's just me! I swear, I'm not a big bad monster or anything."

A small voice came from the bush to his right. "So why do you have huge sharp teeth, then?"

_All the better to eat you with, my dears. _"It was an accident. One of the machines in Atlantis malfunctioned and changed my looks a little."

The voice (which John recognized as Dunya, a small seven-year-old girl) replied with alarm. "Are you okay?"

He smiled, being careful to make sure that this time his lips covered the fangs. "Yeah, I'm good. Just with cat ears and sharp teeth… but I'm the same Sheppard."

"Oh, good!" Dunya jumped out of the bush and called, "It's okay to come out now!" Within a few seconds, the kids had surrounded him demanding to know more: if the fangs hurt his lips, if he was going to keep them (because they were "pretty cool," as Jinto put it), if he had a tail, and various other questions.

"No, I'm not keeping them. No, I don't have a tail, thank the Ancients," John replied, sitting on his heels so he was roughly at their height.

"Can we touch them?" Kira asked shyly.

John considered for a few seconds, but at the hopeful looks on their faces, gave in. "Yeah, but no yanking, please."

With a few delighted giggles (alarmingly similar to those that the women on Atlantis had given upon touching his ears) they crowded around to pet the fuzzy flaps. Thankfully they were all pretty gentle, being careful not to pull hard.

John was about ready to stand up when a hand started scratching at the base of his right ear. He froze, almost whimpering as an overwhelming feeling of sleepy content washed over him. Damn, that felt good!

A throaty, thrumming noise was issuing from somewhere, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was coming from _him _– he was _purring_. The kids giggled, exclaiming, "He's purring!" "He's like a real cat!" John didn't particularly care – as long as they kept scratching right there, he could stay here forever.

Some time later, when Teyla had finished with her visiting, she found him curled into a ball with the kids around him, some just talking and playing, others at work scratching his ears, with a strange, heavy humming sound in the air.

"John?" she questioned, sounding rather bemused. "Is that – are you -"

"He's purring," Kira supplied cheerfully, rubbing the tip of his ear so that the purring increased.

"Yeah, he's been doing it for a really long time now!" Jinto said, grinning.

Sheppard was sure that the look on Teyla's face was priceless, but at the moment his eyes were closed as he floated in a cloud of pure bliss, and he really couldn't be bothered to open them.

"I see." Teyla sounded as if she didn't know whether to laugh or to be worried. "John, we should be going."

"Imaninut," he mumbled. He was trying to say, "in a minute," but his mouth seemed to be on vacation, or malfunctioning, or something. He really didn't care. Right now, the kids had him wrapped around their pinky fingers. Tien had just asked if he could try and fly the jumper, and John had agreed without hesitation.

"John." Teyla definitely sounded amused. "Now."

"Wha?" John twitched as the scratching stopped; the delicious warmth left, and he opened his eyes, feeling rather desolate. Teyla was shooing the kids away, sending them back to their parents; once they were gone, she turned to him. "I see you enjoyed yourself," she said dryly.

"Mmph," he said in reply, getting to his feet and brushing off some leaves that clung to his shirt. Straightening, he smiled sheepishly at Teyla, whose eyebrow was raised. "Er – I hope you didn't take a picture of that. Rodney would make fun of me for the rest of my life."

"I did not," Teyla said. "But only because I had no camera."

He grinned, briefly ruffling a hand through his hair and ears. "Good. Let's head back, I'm hungry."

- - - - -

"E-liz-a-beeeth, Sheppard is driving me crazy!" Rodney stormed into Elizabeth's office, crossing his arms and he stood in front of her desk. "He's disrupting the labs and being a pain! Make him stay in his quarters, for godssakes!"

"I'm not doing anything," John protested as he entered the office as well. "He's overreacting."

"Overreacting?!" Rodney spluttered indignantly. "You broke two of my best coffee mugs, spilling it on a pile of perfectly good mission reports, and knocked over three different tables! All over chasing some imaginary noise!"

"Just because you can't hear it doesn't mean it's imaginary."

"Oh please. Even if it is real, who cares? You don't have to go destroying my lab just to follow it!"

"Gentlemen!" Elizabeth said, holding up her hands to get them to fall silent. "Thank you. Now start from the beginning. What's this noise you're talking about?"

"It's this sound I've been hearing," Sheppard replied, a little embarrassed. "Since I got the ears. It's been driving me nuts because I can't figure out what it is."

Elizabeth was doing the eyebrow thing. Shoot. "Okay… and you basically caused chaos in Rodney's lab because once you heard it…"

"He ran all over the place trying to find it," Rodney finished.

"Just how much damage did you cause?"

"Not that much -" John began defensively.

"Lots. It'll take hours to clean up the mess," Rodney butted in. John glared at him; he glared back. Elizabeth sighed.

"John, I thought you knew better," she said, looking disappointed.

No! Not the disappointment! Anger he could take, but Sheppard hated when Elizabeth was disappointed in him. The ears drooped dejectedly, and he said, "Well, I'm bored. If you would just let me go on missions, maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

"True," Rodney admitted. "Ronon is getting restless too. And I think the cat thing is contributing to his abnormally high energy levels." Rodney reached out to tug an ear, emphasizing his point. "Plus, we figured out how to power the device, but it's going to take a while for the energy levels to built up to a sufficient amount that will be enough to change Cat Man here back to normal. So there's really no point in waiting around."

John looked hopefully at Elizabeth, who was nibbling at her pen in contemplation. "Alright," she agreed. "How about we brief for a mission tonight, and you go tomorrow? Does that sound satisfactory, Colonel?"

He grinned happily at her. "Yup."

"Good," she said, mouth quirking up at the corners. Nodding to Rodney, she asked, "Wasn't Dr. Zelenka needing your assistance with something…?"

A look of rememberance passed across Rodney's face, and after muttering something about "idiot underlings who need babysitting twenty four-seven," he left.

Elizabeth turned towards John, coming to the other side of the desk so she stood before him. He gulped. "You know, I really am sorry about the lab," he said, trying to look as pitiful and remorseful as possible.

She tried to look stern, but couldn't quite manage it – the forlorn look on his face was eating right through her heart. Smiling and shaking her head, she asked, "It's fine. Just be glad you didn't break anything important, or Rodney would have killed you before I could have reached you."

"Don't I know it," he muttered, and she laughed.

"So I hear you had a good time on the mainland," she said, eyes teasing.

Uh-oh. "Yeah, the kids were great. We had… fun."

"I'm sure. Did they scratch your ears in all the right places?" Elizabeth looked like she was having way too much fun with this.

John crossed his arms. "Maybe."

"And you purred." It was a half-question, half-statement; she looked disbelieving at the idea.

"Maybe."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "Well, now I'm curious, Colonel. Did you purr or did you not?"

He stepped forward, voice low and flirtatious. "Maybe you should find out for yourself."

Her eyebrows went up at the dare, and she cocked her head. "Maybe I will." Elizabeth paused, and John half-expected her to reach up and touch the ears right now. But instead she whispered, "But right now, you have to go help clean up that lab."

She stepped back, smirking triumphantly, and John knew he was beat. Ah, well. Maybe next time.

-TBC-


	4. O Great Cat God

A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long!! I had this chapter ready for a while, but then I wasn't very happy with it, so I sent it to a beta, and that took a while - although, really, it was my fault. -wince- Anyway, thanks to borgprincess for fixing a few of my grammar mistakes and inconsistencies. And for everyone who reviewed last chapter and is still reading. Thanks!

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Chapter 4 - O Great Cat God

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M3X-494. Planet of extensive golden-grass fields, bluish skies with a tinge of purple, green forests, and funny bird-like animals that flitted around. Sheppard found those especially noticeable, as whenever he caught sight of one, his first instinct was to freeze and try to stalk it; but of course, the strange looks his team sent him generally got him back on track.

"Right. So, life signs were detected just half a mile away. We go there, do the average meet-n-greet, and hopefully establish a trade alliance," John said cheerfully as they set off across the grass field.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, I was at the briefing too. Please, tell me again why we're here, I just loving hearing you say it over and over."

John just grinned tolerantly; nothing could ruin his good mood. He loved Atlantis, really he did, but he could only take a few days of being cooped up with nothing to do before getting restless. Underneath his black cap, his ears twitched in protest; apparently they didn't like being forcibly flattened against his head. They kept trying to throw off the hat by pitching upward, forcing him to re-adjust it every two seconds.

Sheppard wasn't really happy about the hat either. It was flattening his hair. Hey, he was proud of that hair. Find him anyone else with hair as cool as his, and he'd eat the cap.

But Elizabeth had insisted he wear it, saying that scaring the natives was not the best way to make a first impression. Well, you'd certainly make an impression, just not a good one. So he was wearing the cap.

The ears twitched in complaint again, and he said sternly, "Hey, cut it out up there."

Rodney looked incredulous. "Are you _talking _to them? My god, you've just reached a whole new level of insanity."

"I wasn't talking to them."

"Yes, you were!"

"No, I wasn't."

"Fine. Then who where you talking too?"

John decided it was time for a change of subject. "Oh look, the natives. Wave and look friendly, McKay," he said as they came into the view of a village-type settlement. They were staring at John and the team curiously, whispering among themselves and pointing.

"Hey, folks," John said as they came nearer. The villagers seemed more interested than afraid or hostile, so he relaxed just a bit. "We're just peaceful travelers, looking to make a few friends. You don't happen to have a leader, do you?"

A man stepped forward. "The High Priestess is busy with prayers. Do you really come in peace? Your weapons speak otherwise," he said, eyeing their P-90s.

"Our weapons are for protective purposes only," Teyla assured. "We do not intend to harm you."

The man nodded slowly. "Very well. Do you wish to speak with the High Priestess? She should be finished momentarily."

"The… High Priestess? She's your leader?" John questioned.

The man nodded. "Yes, she -"

"Tayrlyn, what are you _doing_?" cried a feminine voice from the crowd.

John leaned over to Rodney. "I really hope that's not the High Priestess."

"Hmm," Rodney agreed, looking a bit nervous now.

A woman pushed her way forward, sending a scornful glance at the man, a.k.a. Tayrlyn. "We cannot trust them. We do not know them, and they approach our sacred village armed thus? Chase them out! _Thou must not embrace the poisonous snake, but cut off its head_." The last part sounded like a quote or phrase.

"Is it just me, or did she quote the Bible?" Rodney muttered.

"I dunno, I never paid any attention when my grandma read the Bible to me," John replied.

Tayrlyn faced the woman calmly. "We do not know that they are enemies, Lindelan. The Biran also states that one must welcome the weary traveler with open arms."

Lindelan snorted contemptuously. "They hardly look like weary travelers to me. We should kill them for their attempted deception and transgression onto our holy land."

Okay, things had gone far enough. Time to intervene. "Now hold on a minute. We're really just here for peaceful trading, but if you want us to leave, we'll leave," Sheppard said.

Tayrlyn shook his head. "No, you may stay. It would shame our god if we did not honor his word."

"Well, thanks, but we don't want to cause any trou -" At that moment, Sheppard's ears gave a violent twitch, one last desperate bid for freedom. And the cap fell off.

Time froze. The villagers stared open-mouthed at John's ears, which were swiveling around and reveling at the feel of the wind on their fur. Rodney looked horrified. Teyla looked apprehensive. Ronon looked slightly less bored than before.

Then in one great swoop, nearly all the villagers fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before John. "Cat God! It is the great Cat God!" Lindelan was the only one still standing, although she was beginning to look a little uncertain.

"Whoa, whoa," John said, uncomfortable with all the groveling and pious cries. "I'm not a Cat God, I'm just human, like you."

"Ha!" Lindelan looked relieved and triumphant. "He himself admits it! And not only has he come here bearing weapons that defile our God, he pretends to hold his likeness with those ears and fangs!"

Tarylyn sat up, looking stern. "How do you not know this isn't a test? The Biran tells us to never stray in our faith. Will you reject our god?"

"Look, people, I'm not -"

"He is not our god! Only an imposter! He deserves death!" Lindelan said.

Some of the villagers were beginning to look doubtful, muttering among themselves. One cried, "She's right! Kill them!"

"This isn't good," Rodney said, his voice pitched higher with worry.

John grimaced. "Hey, I told you I wasn't this Cat God from the beginning. I'm not an imposter. I never tried to trick you."

Tarylyn looked grave. "It does not matter. The penalty for taking the likeness of Cat God is death."

"Well, shit," John muttered, his grip on his P-90 tightening. He really didn't want to kill anyone, but if things got any worse...

That was when Ronon stepped forward, drawing his blaster and pointing it at the general direction of the villagers. "He's the Cat God, all right. Now bow."

It worked. They went back to prostrating.

"Ronon!" Teyla said reproachfully.

He shrugged unrepentantly. "It worked, didn't it? Just play along for a while. It's not like we'll take advantage of them."

"Tricking them to worshiping us _is_ taking advantage of them!" Teyla hissed.

"Well, technically, they're worshiping Sheppard," Rodney supplied helpfully. When Teyla sent him a death glare, he mumbled something incoherent and hid behind John.

Ronon shook his head. "We aren't tricking them. They want to believe it. And if we don't play along they're just going to try and kill us."

John sighed. Ronon was right; it would be easier to just play the part for a while. Stepping forward, he announced, "Yeah, I'm the… Cat God. Um, you can stop bowing now."

They all jumped to their feet, eager to please. Tarylyn ducked his head respectfully. "Would you like to see the High Priestess, Cat God? Please forgive Lindelan for her doubt, she tends to believe in the darker side of Your Word in the Biran."

"Of course, all is forgiven." Sheppard winced internally; if he wasn't careful, his ears were going to give away his conflicting discomfort and amusement at the situation. "Now take us to the High Priestess."

The villagers were all too happy to obey, massing around them as they took them through the village. Teyla was still unpleased. "This is _not _a good idea, John," she murmured.

"Yeah, I know, I don't like it either," Sheppard replied. "First chance we get, we'll leave."

Which was when a flurry of very young, very pretty women surrounded him, giggling and worshiping and looking at him with wide, adoring eyes. They flitted about him, coming close to touching him, but always pulling back the last minute, as if just slightly afraid. Except for one redhead; she practically threw herself in his arms, engaging his mouth in a hot, sensual kiss.

John broke away after a few seconds, gasping. "Wow, and that was for…?"

The woman looked surprised and a little anxious. "I'm sorry, O Great One, did I act inappropriately? The Biran says that: _'the Great One loves the female sex; when He does arrive, thou shall offer the young maidens to him, who shall give themselves willingly in their awe of Cat God.' _"

From behind him, John heard Ronon rumble in amusement, "I guess the Cat God likes women."

"Oh, wonderful," John heard Rodney say in disgust, "Now we're _never _going to get out of here."

- -

John managed to gently shake off most of the women, assuring them that no, they had not acted inappropriately, no, he was not going to curse them with disease and suffering because he found them unattractive, which he didn't, and no, thanks, he didn't feel like 'casting himself unto them' at the moment (a phrase which sent both Ronon and Rodney into bouts of snickering).

As nice as it was to have women fawning all over him, he was _not _going to take advantage of them; they were "maidens" (a.k.a. virgins) and only doing it because they thought he was their god. So he held them off as best he could – not an easy task.

Of course, then it got worse. The _questions _started.

"Cat God, why are there so many contradictions and inconsistencies in Your Word, the Biran?" one of the women questioned.

"Well… what do you mean?" John asked.

From behind him, Rodney snorted and muttered, "Eeent, wrong. _Now_ you're in for it."

"In Verse 52, you say that Jirie was a mortal man, but then in Verse 55, you call him a fallen angel," a man supplied.

"And Verse 1 and 3 have different stories of how the Universe was created," someone else said. "Which one is true?"

"Uh…" John stalled, "Maybe… they're both true. Jirie… was a fallen angel, but then he became a mortal man."

They looked unconvinced. "But what of the two opposing tales of Creation? Did you exist before the Universe, creating it when you shed your first tear; or did you come into being at the same time as when the Universe did? How can both be true?"

"Um…" He was stumped. Hell, how was he supposed to know?

Fortunately Tarylyn saved him. "Save such important questions for later, when we are in the High Priestess's presence. She will want to hear the answer, and we should not make the Great One repeat himself."

This silenced the villagers for a while; but not long. One woman, the redhead who had kissed him earlier came up shyly and asked, "Great One, how come you say that women are sinners and unholy?"

John frowned. "What? Where does it say that?"

"Verse 35, 56, 89, 112 -"

"Cross them out," he interrupted. "All of them. They must be typos."

Redhead looked puzzled. "But in Verse 8 you say that 'The Biran is the word of the Cat God, and thou shall not alter it, or suffer the wrath of the Great One."

"Really? Well, that's wrong too," John said.

Redhead brightened. "So, you do not believe that women are only half as good as men? And that we should be subservient at all times?"

"Nope. You have a High Priest_ess_, don't you?"

There was a murmur of assent. "Another contradiction, our religious leader must be a woman, yet women are unseemly in the eyes of Cat God," someone said.

"Right. So just… get rid of all those parts."

Redhead beamed at him, but Teyla pulled John back. "John, you should not be doing this."

He was surprised. "What, you want me to tell them that I think women are not as good as men?"

She sighed. "No, but that is what they believe, and we should not interfere."

"But they're believing in the wrong stuff!"

"It is not for us to judge their beliefs," Teyla insisted.

He gaped at her. "You're kidding, right? Teyla, what am I supposed to say? 'Yes, of course, women are second-class and you must believe _everything _the Biran says, right down to the creation of the Universe using tears.' Yeah, that sounds like a great thing to tell them."

"Perhaps not, but it is neither our place nor our right to try and change their views. They will come to see for themselves what is right and wrong with their beliefs on their own, eventually. _We must not interfere._"

"Fine," John grumbled. "But I'm _not _telling them that women and men aren't equal."

She smiled slightly. "Very well."

"Here it is! The underground Temple," someone announced.

Underground?

- -

Tarylyn and the others lead them through a long, sloping passageway that (judging from its length and angle of descent) probably lead them almost fifty feet underground. When they finally reached the end, even Ronon was hard-pressed to contain his amazement.

It wasn't the size; true, it was huge, an enormous circular chamber with a ceiling so high that the light from the torches didn't reach it, and several hallways and corridors branching away like a massive spider web; but that wasn't the most amazing thing.

"They really _do_ love cats," Ronon remarked.

John nodded in mute agreement. The walls, the columns, even the floor was covered in paintings and engravings of cats. Cats grooming, meowing, eating, fighting, sleeping, playing, running; some paintings were remarkably realistic and lifelike.

Oh, wait. That was because there were real cats in here, too. And not just one or two. They infested the place; John tried to count how many were slinking around in this chamber, but gave up and estimated it was somewhere around seventy. And that was only in _this_ room.

"As you instruct in the Biran, your great temple is filled with cats, the most sacred being ever created, besides humankind," Tarylyn was saying. "And there is your Statue of Justice."

He gestured to the far end of the chamber, where a colossal statue stood; it was human, except with cat ears, fangs, and a tail. Eerily enough, it even looked a little like Sheppard: the cat-man figure had spiky dark hair and hazel eyes. Of course, it was dressed in a long robe of sorts and held a cat in its hands, so it wasn't that similar.

"You know, if I were you, I would keep it quiet about your obvious lack of tail," Rodney muttered to him.

John nodded. "Will do."

"Good. Now, maybe you can just tell them we have to go, but will come back later? Because this is really turning out to be a big waste of my ti-"

Rodney trailed off, his eyes frozen on something ahead. Frowning, John turned to see what had managed make the scientist speechless (no small feat, considering).

It was a woman. And if her clothes and the way everyone bowed as she passed was anything to go by, she was the High Priestess.

She was also _hot._

Her hair fell in golden curls down her back, her skin a soft white, and eyes an intense blue. She was clothed in a gauzy, transparent robe that left very little to the imagination.

When she reached him, she briefly glanced at his ears (which were completely trained on her) as if to make sure they were legitimate; when the left one swiveled around to better hear a noise behind him, she seemed to accept him as the 'Cat God'. Gracefully falling to her knees, she bowed low and murmured, "My lord, I am High Priestess Chasiska. My mind, soul, body and heart are yours to command."

From behind him, Rodney let out a soft moan. "God, you really _do_ always get the hot chicks."

-TBC-


	5. Surprises

A/N: Thanks to borgprincess for beta'ing and making this chapter all shiny and pretty. :) And once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! Love you guys!

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Chapter 5 - Surprises

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John didn't get a chance to respond to Chasiska's promise of complete servitude (which actually suited him fine, because he had no idea what to say, anyway - the wide, amused smirk on Ronon's face, Rodney's exasperated annoyance, and Teyla's dry expression didn't help much) because at that moment several other priestesses came forward, ushering him out of the central chamber and into a smaller room.

Where they proceeded to strip him of his vest and BDUs.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" he protested as they surrounded him, working to remove his clothes. "What the heck are you doing?!"

They paused, looking puzzled. "You are wearing common clothes. The Biran says that once you arrive in mortal form, you are to be clad in our finest robes."

"Yeah, well -" Sheppard started to refuse, and then winced, remembering Teyla's warning. Sighing, he said, "Right. I was just – making sure you knew..." he trailed off unconvincingly, cleared his throat, and added firmly, "But I can take off my own clothes, thanks."

"But the Biran says -"

"All right, _all right_, fine." He allowed them to remove most of his clothes (thankfully, they let him keep his shoes, P-90, and most importantly, his pants) and when they were finished dressing him, he obediently looked into the full-length mirror they provided.

Inwardly, John made a face; he looked ridiculous. The 'robe' didn't have sleeves; it opened in the front, leaving a wide strip of his chest exposed, and trailed off behind him. The fabric was light, the texture velvety, with different shades of red and purple blended together in a camouflage-like pattern.

Great. Just wait until the team saw him in _this_ getup.

John was spared from having to endure his team's teasing, though, when the priestesses lead him out of the dressing room through a back door. Instead of going back into the main chamber, they ended up in a maze of hallways, where he promptly lost what little sense of direction he had to begin with.

"So... where are we going, exactly?" he asked, now thoroughly disoriented.

They send him a collective look, as if he should know (being a god, and all). "The private chambers of High Priestess Chasiska, Great One."

Right. He knew that.

They reached another room; the priestesses gestured for him to enter, but didn't follow, closing the door behind him.

John took a moment to glance around the room, but didn't notice much; Chasiska was moving coyly towards him, her eyes focused mostly on the floor, but flicking up occasionally to his chest and face.

"My lord," she murmured when she reached him, making as if to kneel.

He quickly stopped her, saying, "No need for that. I'd feel more comfortable if you just stood."

Thankfully, she didn't question him, simply standing as he wished. "Does the robe please you? Were my underlings to your liking?" she questioned.

"Er, yeah, it's... fine," he said.

Chasiska briefly glanced up at him before her eyes darted back to his chest. "If my fellow priestesses did anything to displease you, please, tell me. They will be chastised swiftly if you wish it -"

"No, no, they were fine," Sheppard assured her quickly.

Chasiska smiled, slinking closer to him and murmuring, "I'm glad." For the first time, she met his gaze unwaveringly, eyes bright. "My people are enthralled that you have finally come, Cat God. We have waited so long. Now that you are here... you can do so much for us. Heal our sick, protect us from the Wraith, ensure plentiful harvests... you must never leave."

John winced. Okay, enough. Time to blow this charade. "Chasiska, uh, I don't know how to say this, but I'm not actually... well, I'm not actually a god," he said. He hastened to add, "I didn't want to tell your people I was, they just kind of saw me and assumed... you know."

Chasiska's smile only grew. "I know."

He blinked. "You – knew?"

"Of course," she purred. "I knew the moment I saw you. No god would appear so uncomfortable." She began to circle him slowly, trailing her fingertips along his body. "But my people need not know that. As you may imagine, they would become... displeased... to discover it."

Sheppard swallowed. "I noticed."

"Which is why they need not know," she said. "It would be such a waste if they killed you."

"Right," John said, fighting the strong urge to firmly push Chasiska away and establish proper personal space boundaries. Considering she had the upper hand (she could reveal at any time to the villagers that he was not a god – and he was hoping to pull this off without any conflict, thanks) offending her would not be the wisest move.

"So long as I say it is so, my people will continue to believe you our god," Chasiska said. "You will be worshiped, and you will have all you could ever want at your feet: wealth, power, companionship... all I ask for in return is a place by your side."

John's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, sorry?"

She drew an invisible pattern on his chest with her fingers, eyes drawn to his ears (which were currently flattened back, sharing his strong urge to back away). "A place by your side. Where I may have a small slice of your power and perhaps... share your nights." The look of hunger was unmistakable now, aimed at his more cat-like features.

Oo-kay. The woman had a fetish with his ears. It was time to go. Now.

Backpedaling, John said, "Um, well, that sounds great. And while I'd like to get started on that right away – I can't. There's a few things I need to take care of back home first."

"I understand perfectly," Chasiska said. "You may visit your homeworld as often as you like. But you must return quickly." She smiled, and it sent chills up his spine. "I insist."

"Fine, sure," he agreed. "I'll be back soon – just a few days, or so -" He trailed off. Chasiska had finally made her move, reaching up to touch his ears.

He tried not to flinch as her fingers brushed them, slowly beginning to rub across them. He hated it; it felt like an invasion of privacy. With the Athosian kids, with his teammates, even with random women on Atlantis, it'd been different; a gesture of affection, friendship, or harmless curiosity.

But now it was different, selfish, greedy, lusting. Chasiska's nails raked across the tender skin of his ears, as if she was _marking _him – and he didn't like it. At. All.

Gritting his teeth, Sheppard forced himself to smile and remain calm. Considering she had the ability to make it very difficult for him and his team to leave, it would be better just tolerate it for now. "I'll be back soon," he lied, carefully stepping away.

Chasiska didn't stop him, only giving him that creepy smile again. John left the room, found two priestesses waiting outside, and had them take him back to his team.

"There you are!" Rodney exclaimed when John stepped outside, glad to be out of the underground temple. "What in the world are you wearing? You look idiotic!"

"Thanks, Rodney," John said, not really annoyed so much as relieved. When he got closer, he muttered, "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Teyla raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong, Colonel?"

"Oh, no, nothing at all. But we're leaving. Now," he said.

"What? No, we can't leave now," Rodney snapped.

Ear twitch. "And why not?"

"There's a plant," Ronon supplied.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Not just _any_ plant. It supposedly has healing abilities. It's worth checking out, we should stay a while."

"McKay, I'm not sticking around here for a _plant,_" Sheppard growled.

Ronon grinned. "He only wants it to show off to his new girlfriend."

"What? That's ridiculous, this plant has potential -" Seeing he was fooling nobody, Rodney sighed and said, "Fine, just walk away then, and possibly pass up what could be the greatest chance to cure cancer, or Alzheimer's, or AIDS -"

John nodded to Ronon, who promptly grabbed Rodney by the back of his vest and began to drag him to the 'gate. John followed with Teyla beside him. "Stop whining, Rodney, we'll send a team to check it out."

Teyla was giving him the Look. "What?" he asked, a tad defensively.

"Nothing, John."

Ronon called over his shoulder, "She's wondering why your ears are all mussed up."

"What?" John frowned, reaching up to check his ears. The big guy was right; the fur of his ears, short as it was, ran in every direction like messed up velvet.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you went and Kirked around _again_," Rodney said, trying to turn around to look at Sheppard's ears (a rather difficult task, as he was still being dragged along by Ronon).

"I do not _Kirk around_," John said testily.

Unfortunately the denial didn't do much for him.

----

"It's Colonel Sheppard's team," Chuck reported as soon as Elizabeth reached the control room, having been alerted of the unscheduled 'gate activation.

Elizabeth frowned. "They're not due for another two hours," she said, turning towards the 'gate. Sure enough, it was Ronon, Teyla, Rodney and John who stepped through, looking relatively unmolested (what a pleasant surprise – no energy blasts or profusely bleeding injuries in sight.)

Then again – John was wearing the strangest outfit. Gone was his tact vest and shirt – he wore some kind of long, red-purple robe. It was sleeveless, showing off his biceps, and open at the front, revealing his bare chest.

If she hadn't been the responsible, mature leader of the expedition, Elizabeth would have unleashed a loud whistle.

As it was, she just shook her head in a mixture of exasperated amusement and resigned tolerance, starting down the stairs of the control room to greet the team.

As she faced Sheppard, she crossed her arms, sending him a look. "You're early, Colonel."

Her second-in-command raised an eyebrow, apparently unfazed by the giggles and chuckles that were drifting from the upper balcony as various personnel got a good look at his bare chest. "And is that a bad thing?" he questioned.

"Considering your unique aptitude to get into trouble like no other, I would say so, yes," Elizabeth replied dryly. She paused just long enough to run her eyes up and down his figure, the corners of her mouth quirking upward at the sight. "Not to mention you've come waltzing home wearing, of all things, a robe."

He sighed dramatically. "It's a long story."

"The inhabitants of M3X-494 seem to believe that Colonel Sheppard is their god," Teyla supplied, wearing a small grin.

"Their Cat God," Ronon added, smirking.

"And of course, the hot High Priestess just fell at his feet," Rodney snarked. "I wonder if she's secretly ascended?"

John made a face, but before he could retaliate, Elizabeth raised a hand and said, "Well, it sounds like we have a lot to go over. Go get checked by Carson. Debrief in one hour... and Colonel?"

"Yeah?"

She smiled, a wicked twinkle in her eyes. "You have my permission to lose the robe."

----

After being okayed by Carson and sitting through the rather uneventful briefing (during which Elizabeth agreed it would probably be best to send Lorne's team to check out the plant on M3X-494, rather than risk John getting mauled by Chasiska and the villagers) John was dead set on getting something to eat.

Preferably in peace. Because as it was, the Colonel knew perfectly well that any meal spent with his team would be filled with many jokes – at his expense.

So John sneaked into the mess hall, grabbed some tuna and a few slices of a fruit similar to cantaloupe (Yes, he was aware of the strange combination. Yes, he was a bit alarmed by the odd cravings. No, he was not going to see Carson _again_ – he made it a point not to go to the infirmary more than once a day if possible. Really, once a month would be more ideal...) and found a quiet corner of the mess to eat, hoping to be left alone.

Of course, then Rodney ambled in and took a seat besides him, promptly starting up a long conversation on how very Kirk-like he was ("Jeezus, Rodney, not again with that!") and Ronon joined them to ask Sheppard, with almost deceptive seriousness, if he was planning on finding any more planets to worship him ("Funny, big guy. Real funny.") and Teyla came to inform him that somebody had taken a picture of him in the robe and it was being circulated among the women as soft-core porn ("...Tell me you're joking. Please? Damn...") and _then_ Elizabeth joined them to question him about the said so-called porn pics. ("Um... I didn't do it.")

All in all, it was a rather un-peaceful meal. Elizabeth was still teasing him about the picture when suddenly he began to cough hard, a burning sensation blazing at the back of his throat. Ronon slapped him on the back a couple times, nearly dislocating a couple of John's spinal bones as he did so, and the coughing abruptly stopped.

Sheppard cleared his throat, rubbing his neck and frowning. "Well, that was weird," he muttered.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You know, for a second I thought you were going to cough up a hairball."

John sent him a dry look. "Sorry to disappoi-"

He stopped there, because that was when the hacking started up again – and when a hairball _did_ come up.

For a moment of dead silence, they stared at the miserable little black, wet ball of rolled-up fur and other things Sheppard didn't even want to try to identify, sitting on the table between everyone's food.

Then Rodney pushed away his tray and snorted in a tone dripping with disgust, "Well, there goes one perfectly good appetite."

Ronon seemed to find it funny, while Teyla and Elizabeth looked mildly nauseated and very worried. "John, maybe you should go see Carson," Elizabeth suggested, eyeing the hairball warily.

"No way!" he said. "I just went there, and he said I was fine." When she continued to give him the Look (this particular Look meaning, 'If I tell you to go you will go, and you will not argue if you know what's good for you') he pleaded, "C'mon, 'Lizbeth, I'm tired. I have another check-up with him tomorrow anyway – it's not like I'm going to die during the night."

She looked unconvinced, but relented. "Fine. But if I find out you tried to skip the physical tomorrow..."

"I know, I know, there will be dire consequences where you will string me up in front of the Stargate and activate it, vaporizing me in front of the entire expedition as a warning to all would-be hooky players," he said resignedly.

Elizabeth hid a smile. "Good. Glad we have that clear."

After another hour of suffering through various jokes about gods, cats, robes, and hairballs, Sheppard was more than thankful to turn in for the night. Absentmindedly rubbing his fingertips against the rough fabric of his pants (for some reason, they ached; he didn't know why, and just chalked it up to a long day) he stripped quickly, sinking into the warmth of his bed with a contented sigh. Curling up into a ball, he promptly fell asleep.

-----

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

Sheppard groaned, tossed over in his bed, and slapped down on the sleep button, effectively silencing the pesky alarm. Yawning, he stretched without opening his eyes, reaching a hand up to scratch his six o'clock shadow -

Only to start in surprise and pain as four sharp nails raked against his cheek, leaving behind open bleeding cuts.

Eyes snapping open, John quickly drew his hand away from his face and stared at it. Tiny droplets of blood shone on his fingertips. Gone were the blunt nails he'd used yesterday to open a can of soda.

He had claws.

-TBC-

A/N: Yes, I am aware that technically, since Sheppard doesn't groom himself (well, not with his tongue, anyway. Ew) it is improbable, to say at the least, that he would cough up a hairball. But see this? -holds up Artistic License- Yup, that's right, I have my artistic license. ;D

A/N II: No one can appreciate how much trouble I went through to upload this chapter. No one! Damn you, file uploader, and your anti-OpenOffice ways! -shakes fist-


	6. Coping

A/N: My Christmas gift to you all. A nine-page chapter! Wowsers. And for all of you that wanted Shep-with-a-tail... enjoy. ;D

Also, I had to raise the rating, because Shep is a bad boy and uses the 'f' word. With good reason, but still. You have been warned.

----

Chapter 6 - Coping

Claws. He had claws.

Sheppard stared at his hands for a few seconds, mind frozen with shock. In a sort of dazed, remote state, he noted that his fingernails were still there, kind of; the free edges had morphed into sharp, hard black talons, coming out of the flesh of his fingertip. Unlike real cat claws, he couldn't seem to retract them; they were stuck in place.

That was when he came to his senses. Jumping out of bed, John didn't even bother to change out of the black cotton pants and t-shirt that served as his night-clothes – he left his room immediately, trying to fight back the panic as he half-walked, half-sprinted the distance to the infirmary.

----

"I'm sorry, lad." Carson looked tired and guilty, holding Sheppard's blood test results in his hands. "I don't know how I missed it before."

John's heart plummeted. He knew. "I'm turning into an _ivakil_, aren't I?" It was horribly, eerily familiar, knowing his body was mutating into something it shouldn't – the memories from last time still haunted his dreams.

Carson nodded miserably. "Yes. The metamorphosis has been progressing at such a slow rate that I didn't notice it before. The changes made to your DNA were practically insignificant – until now, that is."

John took a deep breath, clenching his fists loosely and feeling the claws prick against the skin of his palm. "How long do I have?"

Carson shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, considering. "The transformation seems to be increasing in speed at an exponential rate. If it continues... then you have roughly a week before you are completely transformed."

"Well, then Rodney will have to fix the machine before then," John said, holding onto his calm like a lifeboat.

The guilt on Carson's face increased. "It's not that simple, lad. From what I understand, the machine works fine, it's just a matter of re-charging it... Rodney told me it'd be ready in twelve days, no sooner. He can't speed up the re-charging process."

"Fine. Then when it's ready, he can turn me back into my old self," John reasoned.

But he saw the look on Carson's face, and his calm slipped just a little bit more. "Lad, it's true that the machine will probably be able to undo the transformation after your body has completely changed – but if we wait that long, the memories stored in your mind will be wiped out. Your brain will be like a clean slate; you won't even know how to talk."

John stared at him. "You're saying that being changed into a cat and back will erase all my memories."

"Yes."

"And there's nothing I can do to avoid it."

Carson winced. "Lad, we're doing everything we can to avoid it. I'm trying to develop a drug that will slow down the process... but I have no idea how successful it will be. In addition, it won't be able to undo what's already happened – that's up to Rodney and the machine."

John exhaled slowly. "Okay. Guess I should go tell Elizabeth."

"I've already radioed her. She was in a debriefing, but she should be here soon," Carson replied. He hesitated, then began, "Colonel, I'm sorry -"

"Carson," John interrupted. "It wasn't your fault. I'm the one who decided to go turning on the device without knowing what it does. At Rodney's request, but still. You had nothing to do with it."

The doctor only looked a little less anguished. "Perhaps, but if I'd paid closer attention-"

"Doc," John cut in firmly again. "I don't blame you. You're good at what you do. If you didn't notice any concrete changes – besides me suddenly developing a taste for milk and tuna, anyway – then I doubt anyone would've. It isn't your fault."

"He's right." Elizabeth had stepped inside the infirmary and was sending Carson a gently stern look. "Stop beating yourself up over it. Now, tell me exactly what's going on."

As Carson filled her in, John sneaked another glance at his claws and shivered. They gleamed in the light of the infirmary, pieces of sharp black flint. He kept them hidden, curling his hands into loose balls to conceal them. Yeah, Elizabeth already knew about them from Carson; but he felt strangely uncomfortable with the idea of her seeing them.

When he'd gotten the ears, it'd been different, somehow. Sure, he'd looked funny, but that hadn't mattered. Now... now he had claws.

Now he was dangerous, and she could see it.

John Sheppard had no delusions about himself. He knew he was dangerous, beyond dangerous, when his dark side took over. Killing fifty Genii soldiers had pretty much established that fact. And sometimes it scared him. Sometimes he just wished he could hide it away from the world.

From her.

There was a reason he'd tried to hide his face from her when the retrovirus had begun mutating his skin into blue scales. He was dangerous before, he was dangerous then; but the difference was, it could no longer hidden behind a casual demeanor and disarming smirk.

It was visible, and he hated that.

Carson had finished speaking with Elizabeth; he muttered something about getting to work on slowing the transformation and left. Sheppard avoided looking at her, studying the floor and feeling dejected and miserable.

"John. Look at me."

Reluctantly, he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. She was closer than he'd realized, standing only a foot away from where he sat on the infirmary bed. Gently, she took her hands in his; he didn't try to stop her, afraid that if he struggled the claws might accidentally nick her skin.

Carefully, she smoothed out his hands, examining the talons at the end of each fingertip. He tensed, almost imperceptibly; but she noticed, sending him a reassuring glance. "Well," she murmured. "Carson says he'll probably be able to engineer some sort of drug that'll slow down the changes. In twelve days the machine will be powered up and Rodney can get it to change you back to your old self."

"So, nothing to worry about, then?" Sheppard said, the dry sarcasm of his voice not lost on her.

Elizabeth frowned, studying his face. "What's wrong?" she asked suddenly.

"Besides the fact that I'm turning into a cat? Oh, nothing, nothing at all." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced internally. He hadn't meant to use that tone of voice with her, or to sound so sullen and dark.

She raised an eyebrow. "Colonel -"

"Sorry. Never mind, it's nothing," he muttered, standing up and carefully extracting his hands from hers, trying to grin nonchalantly, though it probably came out more like a grimace. "I'm scheduled for a run with Ronon. See you later."

He started for the door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. She didn't try to turn him around, her voice soft and compassionate.

"You'll be fine, John. You always are."

Squeezing his shoulder gently, Elizabeth let go and walked out of the infirmary, leaving John alone with the feeling that she'd meant it in more ways than one.

----

Predictably, Ronon thought the claws were the greatest thing since the invention of C4. He took one look at them and asked, only half-joking, "Where can I get some?"

"Sorry, big guy," Sheppard said sardonically. "The device that mutates your fingernails into talons is kinda out-of-order right now."

The former runner grunted, actually looking mildly disappointed (which had John shaking his head in disbelief – _honestly_) before they started the run.

It helped, jogging through the halls of Atlantis in silence; he didn't know if it was just the exercise, or the calm of the city, or Ronon's solid presence, or a mixture of all three. But by the time they were finished, John was sweaty, hot, and happy. Elizabeth was right. It'd be okay; Rodney wasn't a genius for nothing, and Beckett would figure something out.

After a quick change (no shower – sorry, but rubbing soap all over his body while his hands had claws just didn't sound like the best of ideas to him) John headed to the mess hall for breakfast. Rodney, Ronon and Teyla had beaten him to their table and the first thing Rodney said was,

"Well, let's see them!"

"See what?" John said innocently, placing his tray on the table as he sat by Teyla.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "The claws, of course," he said impatiently.

Sheppard held up a hand briefly. "Satisfied?"

"No. Can you cut stuff with them? Do they retract? How does -"

"_Rodney_," Teyla said, sounding slightly scandalized. She turned a concerned gaze on John. "How are you feeling?"

He had to smile. "I'm fine, Teyla. Carson's working on some drug that'll help slow down the transformation. And if McKay here would just hurry up and charge the machine-" here he shot a pointed glance at Rodney - "then I'd get back to normal faster. And I wouldn't be forced to tear someone to pieces, since yes, the claws do cut stuff."

Rodney spluttered indignantly. "Excuse me? You should be grateful I managed to figure out how to recharge the device! It's regaining energy as fast as possible, and the poorly-veiled threats do _not_help!"

John didn't reply, frowning as he tried to maneuver his hold on the fork and knife so that he didn't cut himself with his own claws. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful. "Ow! _Damnit_."

Without thinking, he tried to lick away the blood on his cut finger – only to yelp as the claw slit his tongue.

"Aw, shit," he muttered, grabbing a napkin and holding it to his mouth as blood filled his mouth and spilled past his lips. It hurt, but not that badly; there was just an annoying amount of blood, filling his mouth with a foul metallic taste.

Rodney, however, looked horrified. "What did you do?! It looks like you cut your own tongue off! Are you okay? Idiot!"

"'m fine," he mumbled through a mouthful of blood. "Looks worse than it really is."

Teyla handed him a few more napkins, frowning. "You should be more careful, John," she chastised.

"No kidding! You get claws and the first thing you do is stick your hands down your throat? Moron! Maybe you should go see Carson, you're bleeding all over the place," Rodney said, looking both exasperated and worried.

The blood flow was already slowing, though. "No, 'm okay," he said, spitting out some more blood and grimacing. Ronon handed him a glass of water, and he gratefully accepted it, taking a few sips to rinse away the bittersweet taste in his mouth.

Rodney shook his head. "You're a disaster waiting to happen, you know that?"

"Thanks, Rodney. Your obvious concern is really quite touching."

"What? Hey, I asked if you were okay!"

"And then called me a moron."

"Well, you _are_!"

----

John returned to his quarters with low spirits. Breakfast had not been fun. It'd proved nearly impossible to handle the utensils with claws; he either couldn't properly grasp them, or ended up nicking himself. It'd gotten so bad at one point Teyla had offered to help. He had adamantly refused. No way was he going to be hand-fed.

Plus, his tongue had continued to throb slightly with pain, and eating toast (the only food he _could_ eat, because it didn't require a fork) had abraded the tender area of his cut tongue. In the end he'd just given up, leaving the mess hall with a growling stomach.

Sheppard sighed, rubbing a palm against the back of his neck. He still felt dirty from the run. Maybe he'd risk taking that shower.

Grabbing a towel and stepping into the bathroom, he stripped of his shirt (nearly ripping it as he did so) and started unzipping his pants.

Which was when the talon of his thumb sliced right past his boxers.

Letting out a choked cry of pain, John sank to his knees and groaned, "Holy_ fuck._" This was not happening to him. He had not just cut his own damn -

He had.

Shit, he didn't even have enough swearwords to express just how pissed he was.

Even through the pain and self-directed annoyance, though, John had to grin. If Rodney ever found out - _"What, now you're trying to castrate yourself? Idiot!" _

Okay, nobody could ever find out about this. Ever.

So Sheppard tried to stop the blood flow, but it kept bleeding. And bleeding. And bleeding. Until he got so worried he was tempted into going to see Carson.

He could not believe this was happening to him.

In the end, concern for his manhood won out, and Sheppard slunk out of his room into the infirmary.

"Aye, Colonel? What is it now?" Carson asked when he saw John loitering awkwardly outside his door. Then he frowned, worried. "Is that blood on your claws...?"

"Um... yeah. I kinda... cut myself..." he trailed off.

Carson asked where the injury was. John told him.

"Sorry, you cut yourself _where_?!"

"I was trying to unzip my pants."

"Oh." Carson only looked serious and sympathetic, not amused, and at that moment John fully and fervently appreciated the fact that Carson was his doctor. "Come on, lad, there's a curtained area over this way."

----

Thirty minutes later, the bleeding had been taken care of and John's claws had been filed down to blunt points. Carson had been professional and empathetic the entire time, yes, but it was still an experience he'd rather forget. Or pretend had never happened, if possible.

So far his day was turning out to be a real crappy one.

John wandered aimlessly around Atlantis for a bit, went into his office (yes, he had an office, something that for some reason, surprised a lot of people) and did some paperwork; but that just made him frustrated – his claws weren't sharp, but they were still long, and it was a pain trying to hold a pen or type on his laptop. Giving up, he drifted into the rec room (which was, thankfully, empty – he felt like sulking alone) and settled down on the couch.

He didn't bother starting a movie. He'd seen them all too many times, anyway. John just kind of stared dolefully at his hands, feeling childish and immature and foolish. It didn't improve his mood.

A knock made him look up. Elizabeth stood at the doorway, hands behind her back. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure, go ahead," he said, making an effort to pretend nothing was wrong.

She smiled and settled down on the couch beside him. For a moment, she said nothing, studying his face. John determinedly kept his depression hidden behind a casual mask.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth seemed to have x-ray vision. The mask that fooled most people was transparent to her. She didn't say anything, but Sheppard could tell she knew he was down from the soft expression on her face.

"Carson tells me that you're having trouble dealing with the claws," she said at last.

For a moment, John tensed, horrified at the idea that Carson might have told her about the 'accident'. But then he relaxed, knowing that Carson would never violate patient-doctor confidentiality.

"Yeah, they're a pain," he replied, giving them a glance.

She took his hand, touching the filed-down claws. "Ronon seemed to think they were cool."

He snorted. "When Ronon saw X-men, he wanted to have Rogue's power. As in, sap the life out of people by touching them."

"True," Elizabeth admitted, smiling slightly. She didn't let go of his hand, wrapping it in hers. John's breath hitched in his throat at the feel of her warm hands encompassing his, but he didn't pull away.

They stayed like that for a while. John's breathing slowed as the tension and misery of the day slowly drained away, a feeling of contentment taking over. Strange how being near Elizabeth could have that effect on him.

Eventually, somebody radioed Elizabeth, requesting her presence immediately. She sent him an apologetic smile, squeezed his hand, and left. The feeling of peace did not leave with her.

Maybe it hadn't been such a bad day, after all.

-----

Of course, then he woke up with a tail.

A _tail_.

It was three feet long, sleek, black, and furry. John first noticed it when he sat up on his bed, and it coiled around his leg like a snake.

He stared at it for about ten seconds, then buried himself back into the blankets of his bed and willed it to be a dream.

After five minutes of chanting in his head, _It's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream, _he peeked his head out from under the pillow and craned his neck to look behind him.

Apparently the tail had a sense of humor. It waved at him.

John didn't bother getting dressed. He locked the door of his quarters and hid back under the blankets. There was no way he was going to be seen walking around Atlantis with a tail. No. Way.

"_Sheppard? Lad, can you hear me?" _

The radio at his night table blinked its light as Carson tried to contact him. John stared at the radio, contemplating whether or not he wanted to answer it.

"_John? Don't tell me you're still asleep at this hour." _There was a pause. "_It's important." _

Sighing, John picked up the radio, responding, "Yeah, I'm here."

"_Good, I was beginning to worry. Come down to the infirmary, I have something for you." _Carson sounded tired but pleased, and John's left ear perked up hopefully, wondering if he had the drug ready. At the same time, the right ear drooped at the exhausted note to Carson's voice. He hated to think that Carson had stayed up all night just to get the drug ready.

"Um, Doc, you know I'd love to... but..." he trailed off uncomfortably, glaring daggers at his tail. The tip of it flicked, taunting him.

"_What? What's wrong? I knew I should have kept you here overnight -"_

"Doc! I'm fine. I just have a new... well... new cat-like feature, is all."

Silence._"You'd better come down to the infirmary." _

John winced. "Can't you just come here?" he pleaded, trying not to think of how much he sounded like a ten-year-old boy.

He could practically hear Carson frown. _"Alright... I'll be there in a few minutes." _

Letting out a breath of relief, John said, "Thanks, doc," and put the radio aside. He got out of bed, deciding he might as well get dressed.

Easier said than done.

John glared at his tail. Then he glared at his pants. Glare at tail. Glare at pants. The process repeated itself until Carson rang the door-chime.

Tossing aside the useless pants, John grabbed his blanket and bunched it around his waist. "Come in," he called resignedly.

Carson poked his head in, holding a needle and looking a bit bemused as he studied John. "So, what's the problem, Colonel? You look the same as yesterday..." he trailed off, eyes widening as he stared at a spot just below John's knee.

John risked a glance downward. Sure enough, the tail had escaped the confines of the blanket around his waist and was moving around him idly.

"Well," the doc said. "I can see why you didn't want to leave the room."

-----

Fortunately, Carson did have the drug ready; supposedly, it would stop any more major changes from happening, although the transformation would not be stopped entirely, just slowed down enough so that Rodney would have the machine ready before it was too late. He administered the drug to John in his room. Sheppard would have been content to stay there for the rest of the day (hell, the rest of two weeks, until McKay had that damn machine ready) but Carson was adamant.

"You can't hide here forever," he argued. "How will you eat?"

"Someone can bring me food," John said, crossing his arms.

"What about when I need to give you a physical? I can't bring all my equipment here," Carson pointed out.

John frowned, but kept his arms crossed defiantly.

"Colonel -"

"Carson. I am _not_ walking around with a cat tail."

Carson sighed, turned around, and tapped his headset.

"Whoa, wait, what are you doing?"

"Calling Elizabeth. Maybe she can talk some sense into you. Think I'll call Teyla too," the doctor replied.

"What? No!"

"Elizabeth. Teyla. If you could come to Colonel Sheppard's quarters, please?" Pause. "No, no, he's fine. It'd just be nice to have you two here for something. Aye, thanks."

He turned around, and Sheppard glared at him. "Yeah, thanks, doc."

"Oh, stop pouting," Carson replied, settling back into a chair. "And maybe you should put some pants on."

Sheppard gritted his teeth. "I can't."

"What? Oh." Carson looked suitably embarrassed. "Can't you just cut a hole -"

"_No_."

And awkward silence descended upon the room, broken when Teyla and Elizabeth entered, looking puzzled and worried. "What's wro -" Elizabeth began to ask. Then she spotted the tail. "Oh."

Teyla's eyes widened. "Is that -"

"Yes."

"...Oh."

Not quite sure what to expect from the two women, Sheppard just watched them warily. At first, they seemed to surprise to speak. Then Elizabeth coughed. She looked at Teyla, who was biting her lip. They traded glances.

And burst into giggles.

Sheppard's ears flattened woefully as he turned to Carson. "See? I told you! This is why I wanted to stay here alone."

Carson crossed his arms and frowned at Elizabeth and Teyla. "I hate to interrupt your mirth, lasses, but I called you hear for you to coax him out of his room, not make him more set on staying here."

Elizabeth regained her composure, looking slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry, Carson, John. It just, ah, took us by surprise."

Teyla nodded, looking unconvincingly serious. "Yes."

John glared at them both, still fighting back smiles, snorted, and growled, "It doesn't matter. I'm not leaving this room. Period."

Teyla and Elizabeth exchanged looks. Elizabeth seemed upset. "John, we didn't mean – we weren't laughing at you."

"We did not mean to offend you, John," Teyla put in. "We laughed because you look so miserable over something such as this. Has Dr. Beckett not made a drug that will slow down the transformation? Is Dr. McKay not well on his way to fully re-charging the machine? You have nothing to be so unhappy over."

John made a face. "So you're telling me to suck it up."

"I can't have my military commander sulking in his room because he has a tail, which may I remind you, is only temporary," Elizabeth said. "In case you haven't noticed, our people _are_ worried about you – I don't want them getting the message that you're gravely sick, or close to death, or worse. Having members of the senior staff in hiding does not boost morale. We need you out there, socializing and acting normal and proving to everyone that you're fine, that this isn't the same as last time." She paused, and John understood perfectly the "last time" she was referring to.

Then she smiled slightly, cocking her head. "Besides... the tail kind of suits you."

"_What?_"

"It does," Teyla agreed sagely. "It matches your hair and ears. You look quite... adorable."

Sheppard groaned. Both Teyla, Elizabeth and Carson were grinning evilly now. "I hate you all. Hate. You. All."

Elizabeth just laughed. "Come on, let's get you dressed and out of here. I'm hungry."

"I can dress myself," Sheppard argued, backing away when she approached.

"Can you?" Elizabeth challenged, holding up the pair of pants he'd discarded earlier.

"The tail must get in the way," Teyla realized.

"We'll have to cut a hole," Elizabeth mused.

Both women eyed John, who gulped and backed away. "Carson..." he pleaded, but the doctor just chuckled as he headed towards the door.

----

"I look stupid," John grumbled, slouching as he crossed his arms.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You look fine."

Teyla nodded. "You do, John. Except when you pout in such a matter."

"Like a petulant teenage boy," Elizabeth added.

"Does Rodney not call them 'emo'?"

"Exactly. A petulant, emo teenage boy."

John glared at the two. "Still hating you guys."

"Colonel, if you do not come with us to the mess hall now, I will call Ronon to forcibly remove you," Teyla said.

John narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

Teyla smiled pleasantly. "I would."

Slumping in defeat, John reluctantly followed the two out of his room. He had to admit, it was kind of funny to see the reactions of people they passed. Most were too shocked to do anything but stare, open-mouthed. John got a couple of chuckles out of it.

Plus, he had to admit the tail was pretty cool. Not in a visual sense; but he felt like he could jump down five stories and land on his feet. He'd always had a great sense of balance before, but now he felt like Superman. He couldn't wait to try and skateboard with it...

Elizabeth was watching him warily. "Don't even think about it, Colonel," she warned.

"Think about what?" he asked innocently.

"I've seen that look before. Absolutely not. No skateboarding."

He just smiled winningly. "Whatever you say, 'Lizbeth."

----

The next few days passed without incident. The drug that was supposed to slow down the transformation seemed to work. There were no more visible, drastic changes to John's body, and Rodney said the machine was close to working again.

Irritatingly enough, the claws refused to stay blunt. John filed them down again and again; within two hours they were dagger-like points once more. Finally he just gave up at trying to keep them blunt; instead he just wrapped each one with duct tape. Rodney said he looked stupid, but John didn't care; at least he could eat, now.

"Hey." Rodney bounced into the shooting range, looking very pleased. He pointed at the tail, which was making slow, wave-like motions. "That's really weird, you know."

Glancing up from his handgun, John rolled his eyes at Rodney. "You've already told me that before. And I can't control it, anyway." He aimed and fired another dozen rounds at his target, puncturing it neatly at the center.

When he was done, Rodney was scowling and holding his ears. "Do you mind? I come in here to tell you the best news you'll hear all week and what do I get? Oh, right, you trying to deafen me with your guns and whatnot -"

"Rodney, it's the shooting range. There's a reason you're not allowed in here unless you're wearing earmuffs," John said patiently, tossing the gun aside and pulling out two earplugs. Earmuffs, predictably, didn't work so well on cat ears. "What's the news?"

"Hmm, well after nearly breaking my eardrums, maybe I won't tell you..."

"Rodney -"

"The device is ready."

John brightened, his ears cocking forward. "That's good to hear. When can I get turned back to normal?"

"Right now, if Elizabeth and Carson okay it," Rodney replied.

Grinning, John slapped Rodney on the back and began, "Great, thanks -" before getting was cut off by the crackle of his radio.

"John. Rodney. We need you in my office. Now, please." Elizabeth's tone was grave, putting a damper on John's short-lived elation.

Exchanging looks, the two headed towards Weir's office. They entered to find that Ronon, Teyla, and surprisingly, Caldwell where already there.

"What's going on?" John asked, glancing at Caldwell warily.

Elizabeth looked tense. "You remember how we agreed to send Lorne's team to M3X-494?"

Uh-oh. "Yeah, they went this morning, right?"

She nodded. "They were due back an hour ago. When we radioed in to see what was happening, the natives of M3X-494 were the ones who responded.

"They're holding Lorne's team hostage. They're going to kill them in twenty-four hours if you don't return to the planet and stay there."

--TBC--


End file.
